


Mutually Assured Destruction

by LadyLan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Don't Even Know, Masterbation, Oral Sex, Plot if you squint hard enough, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, evetually, i'm just practicing writing smut, probably too much smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-18 17:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLan/pseuds/LadyLan
Summary: Thirty and single for the first time in nearly a decade, Bulma is ready for something… different. And who better to work through her fantasies than the sexy, confident (arrogant, moderately homicidal) alien prince currently taking up residence in one of her family’s guest rooms?





	1. Chapter 1

Her days were spent in her lab, tinkering with training mechanisms the homicidal alien prince currently taking up residence in one of her family’s guest rooms would inevitably destroy. Her evenings were spent on a plush, floral sofa, tasting petit four recipes her mother was trying out for the alien dick who wouldn’t bother saying thank you. And her nights… Bulma switched on her vibrator and dropped her head against her pillow. They always seemed to consist of this.   
  
She tugged aside the fabric of her panties and slid the purple vibrator against her clit--teeth sucking in a breath at the feel of cool plastic against her already slick skin.    
  
When her eyes closed, she imagined herself wedged between a faceless man and a wall. Bulma bit her lip and moved the vibrator up her stomach, past her navel and under her shirt to brush against her breasts. Imagining the faceless man pressing his lips against her neck. Running one big, calloused hand over the curve of her waist, settling it on her hip and squeezing. A silent promise for what was to come.   
  
Wait. The hand was… Her breath hitched and she angled the vibrator against her nipple, the steady tremors making her squirm. The hand was gloved. White, deceptively pure. And when she pulled back, the man was smirking at her. His gloved palm gripping the yellow fabric of her skirt.   
  
Bulma opened her eyes. “So, I’m on Namek then,” she muttered to her ceiling before giving in. She brought the vibrator back to her clit and closed her eyes.   
  
It was the curved bow of Vegeta’s lips that brushed the shell of her ear as he demanded, “Drop the Dragon Ball.”   
  
“Oh?” Her eyes widened with false surprise. “You don’t want the Dragon Ball, then.”   
  
“No.” He smirked, and there was a touch of humor in his voice. “That’s not what I want.”   
  
It was so unlike the Vegeta she knew that she should’ve laughed. But instead, her hips sought friction against the vibrator and she gave into the fantasy.   
  
He pressed her against the wall and roughly smashed his lips into hers, taking both her wrists in a single gloved hand and trapping them against the cave wall above her head. She relaxed and leaned into his kiss. Slowly, Bulma dragged her vibrator over her clit and slit until she could slip it inside her. Imagining it wasn’t a purple vibrator but instead a warm, solid cock.  _ Vegeta’s _ cock.   
  
He kissed her, teeth tugging her lower lip as his hands sought the waistband of her leggings. Her yellow skirt bunched around her hips as he hoisted her up. She had to raise onto her toes until she was lifted completely off the ground, Vegeta’s hands fitting around her backside. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her ankles crossing at his back, and Bulma swapped the vibrator to a higher setting.   
  
She’d spent so many night fantasizing about this… Him, them, together in some compromising position. Sometimes it was Namek, others one of the hallways in Capsule Corp. She knew she should probably step back and think about why it was that she wanted the ungrateful prick, but now was not the time.   
  
The all-consuming build up started--Bulma turned the vibrator up another setting and a few long, slow strokes more and she’d be there. The endorphins built, her toes curled as the electric dominos started falling in different directions under skin. She felt herself spasm again st the vibrator and her head tipped further back--a single, breathy moan escaping her lips.   
  
As she brought herself to completion, Bulma arched her back and panted, basking in the post-climactic bliss she’d all-too often brought herself to.   
  
Her vision cleared as she glared at the ceiling once more, one hand still gripping the vibrator, the other splayed out against her sheets. She was no longer on Namek but at home, in her bed.   
  
Alone.   
  
And as the euphoric high of her orgasm faded, she was met with the crashing wave of self-pity. She was single and wondering how she’d managed to waste so much of her life.   
  
Well, her sex life, to be more specific.   
  
Ten years with Yamcha who’d been perfectly nice and fine, but nice and fine weren’t what she wanted anymore. They’d never been what she wanted, probably. Sex had always been simple, easy, but it was only now that she realized how much  _ more  _ she craved. How many fantasies she was way too old to still have unfulfilled.   
  
She was perfectly capable of pleasing herself, but she wanted... Bulma caught her lower lip with her teeth and exhaled. She wanted the homi cidal houseguest she’d just fucked in her fantasies.   
  
All that solid muscle and those crazy-perfectionist, obsessive tendencies were going to waste in the gravity chamber. She could think of much better ways he could focus that drive. She was betting she wasn’t the only one who could use some release.   
  
In the stillness of her bedroom, Bulma laughed. She was fucking insane. But it wasn’t like they were friends; she could proposition him, and if he turned her down, things would be no less awkward than they were already. He’d carry on pretending she was muck on the bottom of his shoe, and she’d just shout the occasional reminder at him to not kill himself before the androids got a chance to do it first.   
  
Bulma sat up. She wanted more than fantasies, and what guy would turn down an offer of no-strings-attached-sex with her? Nose held high, she cleaned off herself and her vibrator before falling asleep with a smile lingering on her features.   
  
And the following evening, when she’d normally settle down to give herself an orgasm, she padded down the hall on bare feet and tapped her fist calmly on Vegeta’s door.   
  
The door swung open on her third knock and he greeted her with a sneer. Bulma, however, dropped her gaze to his bare, solid chest and the white towel slung over her lips.   
  
“What do you want?”   
  
So different from the smirking man of her fantasies who’d fucked her against the cave wall in Namek. It was silly to try and reconcile the two as the same. But Bulma had never been one to deny herself what she wanted, so she grinned and replied, “You.”   
  
His fist tightened over a knot of terrycloth.   
  
“What?” She stared at him through her lashes. Standing this close, with the clean smell of soap wafting off his tanned skin, she realized how similar in height they were. It made her feel sort of powerful. Her lips curved with a smile. “We’re both adults. Alone. Bored. Don’t you find me attractive, Vegeta?”   
  
His jaw tightened. His arms went stiff, shoulders taut. She dropped her eyes to the towel, unsurprised to find that her words hadn’t made the best muscles hard.   
  
_ Yet _ .   
  
“We have loads of time. We’re already under the same roof. I’m gorgeous, you aren’t entirely unfortunate looking.” She felt silly saying it, what with his impressive body on display, but he was still glaring at her. “What do you say?”   
  
His dark eyes dropped from her eyes to her lips and back again. His expression guarded, his muscles still rigid.   
  
“You’re serious.”   
  
“ As a hemorrhage.”   
  
His eyes went black and she noticed that his hair was still a little damp from his shower.   
  
“It’s gotta be lonely, just you and your crazy training regimen. You’re bound to get bored. Hey, what do you think about when you touch yourself?” she asked. Vegeta took a step back, the towel still firmly in place thanks to his death-grip. She took his step as an invitation and followed him into his room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it with a dangerous smile. “Haven’t you ever thought of me? You know, I think about you sometimes…”   
  
She thought he was going to demand she leave. Go the rest of their time together avoiding her. But the second she saw him pause, his shoulders relaxing a fraction, she bit down on her lower lip. Waiting.   
  
“ Tch. Vulgar woman.”   
  
Bulma straightened. “Is that no?”   
  
He stilled. She could probably tell he was half hard already. His brain unable to come up with a single reason why he shouldn’t. Sure, he prided himself on squashing his desires all in the name of reaching his goal, but… She was the first pretty thing he’d seen in so long, and ever so often she’d be there in his thoughts. Why deny himself. It would be once. His eyes dropped to her pouty mouth and nearly groaned. Maybe twice.   
  
“You see, there are some things I want to do,” Bulma admitted. Voice holding its usual confidence, her cheeks free of any shame. She was entirely in control of what she was saying, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever faced a more admirable opponent in his existence. “Things I haven’t ever been able to do before. Or things I’ve done but haven’t really… enjoyed as I should have.”   
  
And then she reached forward, her hand stilling on the towel. A single flick of her wrist and she’d have him undone.   
  
“Tell me you don’t want me to,” she challenged.   
  
He said nothing. Lifting his hand, he fitted it over hers and the towel dropped. He wasn’t half anything any longer, and Bulma knelt before him. She hadn’t been entirely sure what act she’d come here for, but there she was suddenly face-to-face with how much she wanted to make him cum.   
  
He reached down and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, and she smiled up at him. Then she was wrapping her fingers around the base of his cock. The skin was soft and warm, and she knew her fantasies were nothing compared to the real thing.   
  
She placed chaste kiss on the underside of his dick. Vegeta sucked in a breath as he felt the first touch of her tongue, warm and wet against him, as his hands tangled in her hair.  A single bead of liquid appeared at the tip of his cock and she pressed her mouth there, tasting him.   
  
A groan rumbled from low in his chest and her lips flexed to a smile against him. She kissed her way to the base of his thick cock, pressed her lips against where the thin skin stretched to his balls, and flattened her tongue to lick all the way back up--circling a couple of times around his head until his fingers fisted tight in her hair.   
  
There was a thrill of excitement low in her belly and she could feel how wet she’d gotten just from making him squirm. But she wanted to make this last; wanted the thrill of using only her mouth and hands to bring one of the universe’s most powerful warriors to his knees. She didn’t want this to be half-hearted foreplay, she wanted this.  _ Him _ .   
  
“I want you to cum in my mouth,” she said against the tip of his cock,  before opening up, taking him all in.   
  
He groaned as she found a steady rhythm with her lips. There was rough need in his voice as he said her name.   
  
She left no part of his length unexplored. When she finally enveloped him in her mouth again, sucking her way little by little toward the base, cupping his balls,  running her tongue down the length of him , he was panting.   
  
He held her hair in his fist, searching for some manner of control over her devastating assault on his senses. Logging the memory of her smiling and on her knees before he lost himself in her.   
  
“My fingers can’t even touch,” Bulma laughed, wrapping her hand around his dick. With a firm grasp, she pumped the length of his cock, her hand and mouth working in tandem to bring him closer-- closer--   
  
He finished with a grunt. When he looked down, her blue eyes were staring back at him. He released his hold in her hair, the once tidy ponytail now loose and askew. Rough fingers moved from her hair, knuckles tracing a path along her flushed cheeks to her lips.   
  
Vegeta might’ve been the Prince of all Saiyans, but Bulma was a fucking queen.


	2. Chapter 2

When he'd crashed on this planet, returning only because he'd had nowhere better to go, the first thing the woman had done was shove him into a shower. Like everything on this planet, their cleaning mechanism was strange and inefficient, but he'd voice none of these opinions as he'd washed himself.   
  
In space, he'd been accustomed to stepping into the cylindrical wash, where a cleansing solution would mist until one was sterile. Quick, clean, effective--the order that he was used to. Earthlings, however, were quite fond of their cleaning method, and stood for long periods of time beneath a curtain of warm water. He could almost admit that it was relaxing, and it did soothe his aching muscles after seventeen hours of high-gravity training. Also, it reminded him of the hot rainfall from his home.   
  
Not that Vegeta had many memories of Vegetasei, and of those few none had anything to do with the geography of the planet itself. Years ago, when he was on a planet in the S-quadrant, feasting beneath the sweltering downpour, Nappa had mentioned that it was just how it rained on their home.   
  
In his lifetime, Nappa would make the occasional offhanded comments regarding their home. As a boy, and even more so as a teenager once his own memories had faded, the young prince always listened intently to what his, for lack of a better term, mentor said. He'd tuck such nuggets of information away to a safe place in his mind. They would remain useless to him, of course, only serving to bring him pain as he struggled to make connections with the memories that were not his own. Like how the showers on Earth were like the rain on his planet.   
  
His fist slammed against the shower wall, a half dozen splintering cracks staring back at him as a result of his temporary slip of temper. Showers on Earth may have been relaxing, but the process was entirely too long. Vegeta was helpless but to stand there, mist playing off his skin, steam rising around his calves, and reflect on the home world he could not remember. He was too young, too weak to save it, but it was intolerable to forget it. So even if Kakarot was the one to avenge their people, they were avenged. There was little else to do but be a Saiyan. It was all he had left.   
  
And even though the water felt good, his mind kept drifting the previous evening’s shower. He’d stepped out only to be accosted by Bulma.   
  
His dick twitched at the mere thought of her. He tried his best to ignore it, to tamper down the urge to grab himself at the memory of her on her knees. He’d never… No one had… He wasn’t a virgin, but intercourse had never been…   
  
His fist tightened into a ball against the cracked shower wall.    
  
Despite the steady pelting of water against the tiled floor, it was her voice he heard, remembering as she rose to her feet--fully clothed and cheeks flushed.   
  
“And that’s just the start. There are other things I want to do to you, with you. Aren’t there things you want to try with me?” Her lips curved to a grin, and he’d been helpless but to pant, still recovering from her mouth being on him. “Fuck me in public, maybe in the ass? Dominate me, have me dominate you.”   
  
When he’d only stared at her like she was the most confounding creature he’d ever crossed in all his thirty-one years, she sighed, chest heaving, and said, “Okay, fine. But at least think about it?”   
  
And he had. She’d left and it was  _ all _ he could think of. There’d also been a slip up during his pushups where he’d pictured her below him. And now, in the shower…   
  
Things  hadn’t been the same since his resurrection. Everything he thought about power and his pride had been shattered, like his entire self had been ripped in two. It ached that he couldn’t remember his home, but not as much as it did learning that he’d lost everything because of Frieza. Not as much as it had watching the revenge that should’ve been his die at the hands of another. The fact that he hadn’t been the one to ascend to legendary was like a fucking kick to the teeth.   
  
And being wished back had been like being forced whole again. Only, it didn’t quite fit and everything ached.   
  
The only thing that kept him grounded, the only thing that felt good, he realized was her.   
  
_ Her _ .   
  
As he found out more about Bulma, he established her status as a massive pain in the ass. She was loud, wealthy beyond measure, vulgar and vain. She was a competitive candidate for the position of the biggest idiot in the universe despite somehow holding more brilliance in that head of hers than he’d known possible.   
  
And somehow she was also brave and strong and compassionate. She protected fiercely and always helped people when she could. He’d been homeless and she’d taken him in.   
  
She cared. Maybe not for him, but for strangers on her planet she hadn't even met. And her friends… Those misfit idiots that he’d once delighted in picking off, she’d die for them.   
  
And if that weren’t enough, she was also beautiful. And earlier… she’d put her mouth on him and he knew things would never be the same again.   
  
He groaned, fearing he was more of a sap than he gave himself credit for, and remembering that lovely, frustrating, brilliant woman on her knees, sucking his cock, using her hand to bring him to release. It was too much. His hand fisted around his dick and he pumped. Beneath the steam of his shower he came with her on his mind, pretending her lips were wrapped around him and her delicate, powerful hands were the ones bringing him to completion.   
  


…..

  
  
Bulma stared into the crowd before tipping back her champagne flute, finishing off the last drops of dry alcohol. As she made her rounds through the throng of chattering partygoers, she could feel eyes on her. Men--business partners and some on the CC legal team--let their eyes linger on her neckline, watching her backside and she fluttered past. Her sequin dress catching the light as she slipped by family friends and acquaintances.   
  
The party was a glitzy, classic affair with a live band and massive, glass ferris wheel brought in because her mother was over-the-top and had seen one recently in a magazine.   
  
Bulma smiled, knowing that though this was her father’s birthday party he’d rather have a quiet evening at home. And though the party had been entirely her mother’s doing, Panchy would be holed up in the kitchen ensuring all the passed appetizers were just right and that the four-tiered cake she’d had commissioned was as she’d imagined.   
  
And despite the noise and crowds and music, Bulma felt alone. That is, until a warm hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her into the shadows.   
  
“Why are all these people here?”   
  
Bulma smiled. Out of place, Vegeta wore nothing but spandex and a frown.  
  
“I warned you. We’re having a party.”   
  
“I didn’t realize that meant there would be so many humans.”   
  
“Yep. Dr. Briefs is a famous guy.”   
  
He grunted, the sound low in his throat, as his dark eyes drifted over the crowd with a sneer. “There are too many Earthings.”   
  
“Here, or in general?” Bulma asked. She wasn’t drunk, but there was something that made her nerve endings buzz when she was close to Vegeta. Attraction, probably. He was untouchable, and yet she’d touched him before and lived to tell the tale.   
  
The only response was a once over, the curl of his upper lip in dismissal.   
  
“What is this thing you’re wearing?”   
  
“‘This thing’ is a dress,” Bulma scoffed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sniffed. “And it’s a very pretty one, thank you very much.”   
  
“Hn. It’s ridiculous, but then I do not understand much of what you Earthlings wear.” His eyes darted to the glass observation wheel constructed on the far corner of the lawn. “What is  _ that _ ?”   
  
“Would you like to see for yourself?”   
  
He looked unimpressed, but since he gave no verbal declination, Bulma led him towards the giant wheel towering high above the party.   
  
“It’s for city views, see?”   
  
She stepped inside one of the large carts and he followed after her, the door swinging shut behind them. His eyes darted around the glass structure while Bulma leaned over the railing. The lights of the city cast shadows over her blue updo.   
  
“It’s for observing. It goes really slow so you have time to enjoy, and the views are breathtaking.”   
  
“Or one could simply fly.”   
  
She laughed. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but not many humans are able to fly.”   
  
“Race of weaklings…”   
  
For a long moment, silence settled between them. The space was large enough to host a dozen or so passengers, but being alone with Vegeta, the cart felt small. It was intimate, and he had the ability to fill up a space with his presence.   
  
She only realized she was staring at his profile when he turned and frowned at her.   
  
“You can see all of West City from here,” she whispered, her voice sounding small to her ears. “And way over there-- that’s Goku’s house.”  
  
“He isn’t there.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. “He’s there, in the mountains.”  
  
_ Training  _ like he should’ve been, instead of being suspended in a glass contraption with her. His teeth gnashed.  
  
“Oh yeah. That’s a handy little trick you have there, sensing power levels.”  
  
“It isn’t a  _ trick _ . But it’s always rattled me that all the inferior knowledge and tactics on this backwater planet and you’re the only ones in the universe I’ve ever heard of sensing Ki.”  
  
She laughed. “It’s kind of weird, us talking. Usually I yell, you ignore me, and we go about our separate ways.”   
  
“Except for the other night.”   
  
A grin lit her features and she leaned closer to him, a single brow lifting. “Which other night?”   
  
He glared at her. “You know which one.”   
  
“No.” She tapped her chin, feigning ignorance. “I don’t seem to remember which one. I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me. What exactly did you--”   
  
Her words were cut short as he grabbed the back of her updo and tilted her head to face him.   
  
“You know exactly which night I’m speaking of. I haven’t forgotten,” he said, voice low. “You said that was just the start.”   
  
“Yeah.” Bulma shivered, but she wasn’t cold. “I did.”   
  
“Good. Then tonight I want more than just your mouth on me…”   
  
Bulma’s eyes widened. She’d been nothing but bold up until that point, but her eyes darted outside the panel of glass. “That’s my dad’s birthday party…” she said, even though the logical part of her brain knew they were too far up to be spotted. But still, they were surrounded by glass. Even if no one could see them, from this vantage point she could see everyone. And when her vision focused, she could also see Vegeta’s reflection in the glass smirking back at her. Challenging her.  
  
His voice was low as he said, “Isn’t this one of the things on your ridiculous list? Sex in public.”  
  
She laughed. “ Vegeta…”   
  
His hand slipped from the knot of her updo to rest on the back of her neck. “Say it again.”  
  
“Vegeta,” she whispered.   
  
He pulled her so she was flush against him, the stiff fabric of her sequin dress against the impossibly thin layer of spandex.  
  
“Can you tell how much I want you?” His voice was in her ear, his hand gliding from her neck to her bare back before pressing her harder against him.   
  
“Yes,” she replied, the word muffled against his chest.    
  
“Look at me.”   
  
Her chin tilted to meet him, his face impassive. Bulma wasn’t sure if she’d ever been so turned on, ever wanted something--some _ one  _ so badly.   
  
“Vegeta…”   
  


“No more talking,” he commanded, the rough timbre of his voice stealing the air from her lungs. “Now, take off your dress.”   
  
“So you really don’t like it,” she teased, stepping back. The distant city lights painting everything in their vicinity a deceptive shade of blue. Tricky shadows dancing across his strong, handsome features.   
  
He regarded her for a moment before answering, “I’d like it better off.”   
  
His voice was like a knife--sharp and nearly as cold. And Bulma grinned. Heartbeat hummingbird quick against her ribs, she reached behind her and unzipped the dress, letting it fall to the floor in a single motion. The heavy sequin number thumped against the floor, and she stepped forward, bold and unashamed. Vegeta’s eyes moved from her playful smile to her body and his cock twitched with need.   
  
In nothing but a strapless bra, lacy black panties and heels, Bulma asked, “Well?”   
  
He inclined his head and stripped off his body suit, slowly. Oblivious to the fact that every move showcased a new set of muscles. First his strong shoulders and his sculpted chest. Past his defined abdominals, and lower still--to where the muscles of his lower abs and obliques met in a sculpted ‘V’. Bulma stepped forward and helped tug his bodysuit lower, over his hips and impressive thighs, enjoying the thrill of power as she felt his muscles tense wherever she touched.

  
Vegeta put his hand on her waist before lowering his head, lips so near her ear that she could feel his breath on her skin.  
  
“You still have other silly Earth garments to remove for me.”  
  
Bulma reached back and unclipped her bra.  
  
“Good girl,” he whispered before reaching for her breasts, cupping the fullness of them with eager hands. Bulma groaned when he bent his neck, crouching slightly to run his tongue across her nipple.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, one of her hands steadying herself with his shoulder. Nails seeking purchase in his flesh as he swapped to her other breast. His hands gripping, teeth grazing, tongue flicking.  
  
When she opened her eyes, she could see they were reaching the observation wheel’s zenith.  
  
“On your knees,” he commanded, turning her so she was close to the glass looking down at the sea of faceless partygoers below. Then he was behind her, his erection against her back, his knee parting her thighs and moving her to the floor. When she was bent before him, Vegeta’s hand skated over her hips and across her back to plant firmly between her shoulder blades.   
  
How the slightest touch of him could make her feel so much, Bulma didn’t know. It might’ve been all the nights she’d spent wanting this. But she knew, before they’d even really begun, that this-- _he--_ was different.  
  
Vegeta leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his hand snaking around to cup her breast and she gasped. When he straightened, he took in the sight of her on her hands and knees before grabbing his cock. He pressed the tip of himself against her, but Bulma used her body to push back against him, wanting more.  
  
In a single motion, he was inside her. Bulma gasped, and he pulled out before slamming back inside. He kept his hands planted firmly on her her hips, anchoring himself to her. Watching the way her lips parted through the reflection in the glass and knowing he’d never seen anything as enticing anywhere in all the universe.  
  
He continued to pump in and out of her, and she arched her back meeting his eager thrusts. With a breathy moan, Bulma opened her eyes to look down onto the party below, her eyes darting up to catch their reflection in the glass. Vegeta’s expression is serious, harsh. _Hot_.  
  
She gasped, spasming around him. A few more thrusts and he followed, grunting out her name and stilling. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, and she raised herself so that her back was flush against his chest. In the glass case high above the rest of the world, their erratic breathing slowed.  
  
“Hey,” Bulma whispered, tipping her head back so that it rested against his shoulder, “I like this arrangement.”  
  
He grunted in a agreement, too breathless to chance speaking his thoughts aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the shower bits at the beginning are from something else I'd written, so if they seem familiar I'm sorry. The only plan for this chapter was "Vegeta jacks off in shower, they have sex in a semi-public setting" and I read over that scene to help inspire me and decided to lift some of it 'cause it was so fitting.
> 
> Also! I have a good bit of this story mapped out, but if you have any suggestions or things you'd like to see, feel free to send them this way! I could use an extra smut scene or two ;)


	3. Chapter 3

 

Days went by and he’d train and sleep and eat and he wouldn’t see her. Which was… Fine. It wasn’t like he was actively avoiding her, purposefully widening the gap between them. There was a sense of incompleteness he didn't want to dwell on, sure, but he knew it wasn’t her he was missing. Simply her company.   
  
And when he did finally walk in the house to find her seated on one of the overstuffed sofas, he shouldn’t have been surprised to find her in nothing but a pair of microscopic shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. What was surprising, however, was the array of red and white striped containers balancing precariously around her and scent of meat filling the usually sterile room.   
  
“Merry Christmas,” she greeted, waving a chicken thigh in the air. “My parents went on a Christmas Eve date yesterday but then ended up staying at the lodge for the week so it’s just you and me.”   
  
He blinked, understanding most of the individual words she’d said but not understanding the meaning of them in her stream of conscious.

“There’s plenty of chicken. And I made cake.”   
  
Those, however, were words he understood perfectly.   
  
He sat beside her and helped himself to a plate, piling it high with meat and sides. She didn’t talk to him while he ate, and he only barely noticed the faraway look in her blue eyes as she set her own plate on the coffee table. Music lulled slowly from television set and small, almost sad smile encompassed Bulma’s features.  
  
After he’d had his fill, she cut herself a fat slice of strawberry Christmas cake and then handed him the platter still boasting the remainder of dessert.   
  
“This is tradition,” she said. And though she had a fork in one hand she swiped her finger across the pile of white, fluffy cream, popped the sugar-coated digit between her pink lips and pulled it out clean.   
  
He straightened on the stool. She hadn’t meant for the gesture to be erotic, probably, but his mind instantly snapped back to the image of her on her knees, his dick in her mouth. The image was so clear but so far away. He was fairly certain his balls were going to explode.

A smirk tugged at one corner of Bulma’s mouth and she kept eye contact with him before picking up a strawberry. She rubbed the tip of the ripe, red fruit against her mouth, slowly, before parting her lips and biting.   
  
How she made eating fruit seductive, he wasn’t sure. But there he was, hard and not caring two shits about the cake resting on his knees. So he set the platter aside and watched as her sensuous smirk bloomed into a smile.   
  
She laughed. “You want to fuck me.”   
  
“So conceited. You have no idea what I want.”   
  
She pouted. “Be nice. It’s Christmas, you know?”   
  
He hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about, but he was suddenly aware that the strange, hollow ache in him was thanks to the gap between them.   
  
“I don’t know what this Christmas is.”   
  
“Oh!” Her blue eyes were wide. “It’s a time when we give presents-- gifts. You know what gifts are, right?”   
  
He grunted. “Of course.”   
  
“Well, I didn’t get you anything, but…” She leaned forward, angling her head to one side so their noses wouldn’t bump, and pressed her lips against his. Just the barest hint of pressure, but it was warmer suddenly where her lips touched his, and then she pulled away.   
  
“Huh. I think that was our first kiss. Kinda weird, actually, all things considered.”   
  
He didn’t know what she was going on about, but he knew he wanted to put his mouth against hers again.

Reaching across the couch, Vegeta pulled her closer, and the way her big, blue eyes stared back at him makes him pause. For a moment, he hovered, indecisive, before squeezing his eyes tightly together and pressing his closed lips on her mouth like she’d done.  
  
She squeaked, and he realized the pressure was probably too much, so he relaxed a touch and Bulma, in turn, melted against him. Just when he was ready to end this, Bulma  parted her lips and her tongue brushed against his. She tasted like strawberries, she felt like bliss.   


He had never experienced anything so intimate as the simple touch of lips on lips; and only a week ago he’d been fucking her in a glass case above her friends and family. But there, alone on the sofa, she kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip, sucking it between her teeth and tugging. Her tongue swept against his again and she pulled back, her eyes bright and her lips smiling. With her nose against his, she gave a small laugh before closing her eyes and kissing him once more.   


Bulma knew she shouldn’t be surprised Vegeta would prove to be a good student, a fast and efficient learner. On the battlefield he was quick to adapt, quick to perfect, and he was no different here. She was also more than aware that he wasn’t a virgin, but kissing seemed something new, something different. His hands trail under her baggy sweatshirt, brushing against her ribs almost tentatively. When he kissed her, she could hardly equate him to the in-control man who’d demanded she take off her dress only a week before.   
  
But he kept going, kept learning until there was no longer any hesitation, any uncertainty in his kisses. There was, however, still a degree of exploration that made Bulma tighten her hold on his shirt. Vegeta traced the edge of her lips with the tip of his tongue, and when she moved her tongue against his he sucked it, greedy for more.   
  
As he settled into kissing her, Vegeta became aware of her small hands moving across his chest, up over his shoulders and neck to thread through his hair. Her nails scraped the hairs at the nape of his neck, pressing him deeper into the kiss.    
  
As the kiss went on, she wound up on his lap, her bare thighs straddling his hips. And suddenly, he wanted his lips everywhere, wanted to kiss every inch of her. He began with her cheek, her jaw, and then down the vulnerable line of her throat. Pressing his open mouth to her collarbone before helping her tug her sweatshirt up over her head,  hands trailing over her ribs and to her bare breasts.   
  
Bulma laughed, rocking her hips against his erection. Her lips swollen, her eyes dancing. “I don’t think I’ve made out with anyone like this since I was a teenager.”   
  
He hadn’t kissed anyone like this, ever, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, so he put his mouth on one of her breasts and flicked his tongue over her nipple.   
  
She gasped and leaned her head back. Vegeta tossed her sweatshirt onto the floor, his lips moving over her left breast and then her right, and then he was kissing down her sides, over her navel, and tugging at her sleep shorts.   
  
Bulma lifted her hips to help him guide them down her legs and then she was bared before him; he’d never wanted to kiss something more.

Vegeta bent down to kiss the inside of her knee, then higher up, his teeth nipping at her thighs before smoothing over the tender skin with his tongue. Bulma knew the power the man between her thighs held, and instead of scaring her it made heat pool at her core. She’d always been a sucker for bad boys, and here was the prince of them all on his knees.  
  
She bit her lower lip when his mouth finally settled against his clit, warm tongue exploring, teasing, tasting just as he’d done with his kisses earlier. Her thighs widened, her head already foggy as he worked his tongue against her.

He kept the flicks of his tongue soft and slight, finding what made her squirm, made her breath hitch, the muscles of her thighs tighten. And then he moved his tongue in longer, slower strokes until she was squirming beneath him. She was gorgeous. It was a fact he’d admitted as easily as breathing when he’d first spotted her cowering on Namek, but the fiery, brave (idiotic, incompressiblyblunt) woman mewling on the sofa was like nothing he’d imagined.

He eased his hands beneath her ass and held her to his mouth. His erection hurt-- _ fuck _ he was hard. But he wanted to have her like this, squirming, breathless, tugging eagerly as her hands fisted in his dark hair.

He smirked against her. She’d asked for a gift, and he was going to give her one. He gave another flick of his tongue and she spasmed. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she stopped breathing for a moment.   
  
Bulma bit her lower lip, unsure if she’d ever been so thoroughly pleasured in her existence. For a moment, the world stopped turning. She felt Vegeta’s hands against her backside, felt his tongue against her clit, and she breathed his name, over and over again, as she came.


End file.
